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It had a been a long night. And I wasn’t where I should be. Or rather, I was there too damned soon.
The hospital.
And all I wanted was a drink and another cigarette.
I leant back in the bed; I’d been told to stay upright and not put any pressure on my shoulder, but I didn’t care. Not after what happened.
A goddamned crossbow!
Who in the hell uses a goddamned crossbow in this day and age?!
God-fucking-dammit!
I didn’t remember her real name. It was probably for the best; there was little grief for someone you didn’t know even though you’d been acquaintances, almost work colleagues, for years. The look on her face as her blood bubbled out from her neck and poured over her, over me, had been one of terror. A stream of red. I hadn’t been able to stop the bleeding. She hadn’t been able to breathe. I’d watched the lights go out, the spark in her eyes disappear. She’d died as I’d tried to put pressure on the wound and save her.
Graves had died, leaving a daughter motherless.
And I’d been useless to stop it.
I shifted my arm as I tried to get comfortable on the bed and I winced as the liquid bandage, now hardened, shifted in the wound on my shoulder. The Sector Eight hospital was busy tonight, and I needed to wait for a nurse to dress and treat the wound properly. I’d already been waiting over an hour. An hour to stew and think about Graves and how I didn’t remember her real name.
Goddammit.
What would happen to her daughter?
They better hurry up and treat me; I wanted, needed, to get out of here.
I hadn’t had time to stop and mourn over her body; a crossbow bolt had zipped into my shoulder and floored me. I’d fallen on top of her, bloodied my shirt and hands further, my body pressed against her corpse in the dark.
I don’t know why it had shaken me up so much.
Where was the damned nurse?
I still had her blood on me.
And my shoulder wasn’t my only injury. I’d ran, angry at the death of my acquaintance, angry at my injury; I’d ran toward the bastard with his stupid out of date and shitty weapon, my ear bleeding where the weapon had grazed my skin and jumped at him. He thought he was safe, hiding on the fire escape of the building opposite but no, no he’d not been safe; I’d grabbed his ankle, pulled his leg through the grating of the scaffolding. He cried out in pain. Good.
“Mr Gemini?” It was a nurse. A cute one today. Fresh faced and clean-shaven, he looked a little shocked at my appearance. “Been through the wars today, eh?”
Goddammit, he was one of those ‘small talk’ nurses.
I nodded, rather meekly. He didn’t seem to notice my scowl. Or he chose to ignore it.
He glanced at the display at the end of the bed. “Hmm,” he said. “Hit in the shoulder with a crossbow bolt. Don’t see many of those.” He laughed. “In fact, I’ve never seen any of those! Knife wound to the torso. Bloodied ear. Black eye and broken nose.”
He’d kicked me. The bastard had kicked me in the face, shaken himself loose from my grasp and goddamned kicked me.
“I think we’ll start by taking a look at that knife wound, yeah?” He smiled. Beautiful. Despite the chattiness. “Let’s start by talking your shirt off.”
I wouldn’t mind seeing him with his shirt off. It might perk me up. As much as I was ogling this handsome man, he must think I looked like a monster, with my crooked nose and blackened eye; my face was a mess. I sat forward and obliged him, painfully. My white shirt was still stained and no longer the colour it should be.
“You don’t offer a dry-cleaning service, do you?” I joked as I handed over the ruined clothing.
With a raised eyebrow, he gingerly placed the shirt on the chair next to the bed. It had seen its fair share of blood in the past but this time there was too much; I’d need to burn it.
I hadn’t needed to chase the shooter far; there’d been no escape from me despite my broken face. The man had tripped on the grating, tumbled over the edge of the railing and fallen onto some trash cans below. I’d charged at him; I didn’t give him time to recover from his fall.
“This is a nasty wound.” The nurse’s fingers were cold on my skin. There was no pain; the anaesthetic was doing its job. “Not your standard knife.”
It hadn’t been. He’d hindered my punches and kicks by pulling a beast of a knife on me; it was large and serrated, meant to do the maximum damage going in and coming out. It even had damned prongs! Prongs! I’d dodged it at first, but it’d put me on the back foot and my opponent knew it. He’d grinned as he swung and stabbed at me, and I’d managed to dodge almost every attack. Almost
“You’re lucky,” said the handsome medic. “He could have nicked your liver. But the wound’s not too deep, and it looks worse than it is.”
It had felt even worse, especially when he’d stabbed me. And it hadn’t been my fault either; it was the cops, distracting me as they arrived, trying to calm the situation from afar. The blade had sunk through my bloodied shirt and into my skin, into my torso. I’d screamed and screamed. The goddamned police had wrestled us both to the ground and they’d made it as painful as possible even with my injuries.
“You’ve... er... got a lot of bruises.” The nurse had finished gluing and dressing the wound on my torso and shifted around to my back. “I’ll treat those once I’ve taken a look at this.” I winced as his fingers touched the edge of the bolt wound; the local anaesthetic was beginning to wear off a little. “Deep,” he said. I felt a cold spray on my shoulder. More chemicals to numb me while he worked on my injuries. “You’ll need to take it easy for the next few days for it to heal properly.”
The police had cleared me, the guy had confessed, and I was expecting the inevitable appearance of Suede and Johnson who would undoubtably tell me off for my recklessness. Again. And that was just what I was looking forward to, a goddamned earful from those incompetent fools.
“All done.” He patted my shoulder, the one that didn’t have a hole. “Just need to give those bruises a little spray.”
“No need,” I said. Being shirtless in front of this attractive man was enough, nevermind having to strip completely for him to look at every single bruise. And I was beginning to get a little high from all the painkillers.
“Are you sure?”
“I need a drink.” The anger I’d felt from the death of Graves had subsided and was giving way to light-headedness and wooziness; I needed a drink to ground me.
“Not alcohol, not with the meds I’m prescribing.” He waggled a finger at me. “They don’t mix well.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo, you know.” I jumped off the bed and grabbed my shirt from the chair. “I’ve been shot, stabbed and beaten many times before.”
“I can see; you’ve accumulated a decent collection of scars.”
“Then you know I’m going drink whatever you tell me.”
If he’d been wearing glasses, he would have glaring over the top of them. He sighed. “Mr Gemini, I can only give you my medical advice. Nothing more. And if you chose to go against that advice, that’s up to you. But don’t blame me if you’re back in here within a few days for more treatment.”
“Maybe I just want an excuse to see you again?” It had to be the meds; I shouldn’t be flirting, and I should be thinking about Queenie. I winked at the hot nurse.
“Mr Gemini...” He blushed.
“Jack!” Speak of the devil and she shall appear; Queenie barged into the cubicle and passed the nurse. “Oh, Jack...” She threw her arms around me and even the painkillers weren’t enough to quell the pain. She almost knocked me from my feet. “What have you done to yourself?” She released me and I almost fell back onto the bed.
“Why’re you crying?” It was unusual for her to show emotions like this. “I’m fine.”
“You’re crying too,” she said.
I hadn’t realised that my eyes had watered from the pain of her hug. I wiped my eyes and ignored her comment; better for her to think I was upset about what happened. Maybe I was.
“I...er...” The cute medic backed away. “I’ll leave you both alone. Mr Gemini,” he said, “I’ll leave your prescriptions with the front desk.” He pointed a finger at me and smiled a nervous smile. “Don’t forget what I told you about not drinking with the meds.” And with a final nod, he left me alone with my girl.
She slapped me.
Hard.
I didn’t really feel it, not with the meds. Not physically, anyway.
“You’re a goddamned bastard, Jack.” Queenie dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Just why in hell were you meeting up with a whore? Huh? What did you think you were doing? Paying for sex? Just for a thrill, huh?”
“No, no, Queenie... that wasn’t it, at all,” I said. “Graves...” She was dead. “She was... she was just helping with your case. She’s... she was an informant.”
“Really Jack, you don’t expect me to believe that do you?” The woman tucked her handkerchief into her purse. “I mean, what exactly would a two-bit whore be able to tell you anyway?”
“Queenie... she’s dead! She had a daughter and now there’s a young girl out there who’s lost her mother! Have some respect!”
She shrugged. “People like that should expect bad things; it’s part of the lifestyle.”
“That’s damned cold. Sex work is still work, Queenie. And she was still a person, no matter what you think of her lifestyle. She didn’t ask to be killed! And not in such a goddamned awful manner!” Her gurgling screams were flashing in my eyes as I spoke, and I found I had to sit down; I felt sick and dizzy, and I didn’t know if it was the meds or...
“Her lifestyle didn’t help though, did it?”
I clutched my head in my hands. “Queenie...” Everything was spinning.
“Tell me the truth Jack, what were you doing there?” Her voice was distant even though she was shouting.
“I told you... she was an informant.” My stomach churned.
“Oh? And what did she tell you? Did she tell you what she liked to do in bed? Did she show you? Or was it something else?”
“Queenie, listen...” My fingers squeezed my skull as I tried to steady my brain. “It was for your case, believe me...”
“Don’t bother Jack,” she said. “I might stay with my sister a little longer than the weekend; I need time to get my head straight and you need time to think things over, to get your priorities right.”
She stormed out and I suddenly realised I was still shirtless.
And there were real tears streaming down my face at the loss of an acquaintance. No, a friend.